


Know Yourself

by loquaciouslass



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors
Genre: Blood, Burns, Dark Comedy, Masochist, Masturbation, Multi, One-Sided Attraction, Self-Discovery, Toys, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, discussions of kink, interplay of sex and violence, sadist, sadomasochist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 14:26:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11534109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loquaciouslass/pseuds/loquaciouslass
Summary: It is important to know oneself, and to love oneself. Unless your name is Wizzro. In which case you should stop trying to know yourself this instant, before someone gets hurt.





	Know Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> Why do I keep writing this fucking pairing. I mean outside of the fact that it brings me great joy and makes me laugh.

There were a thousand things that Wizzro could have been doing with his time. He could have been burning fields and devouring soldiers whole; he could have been creeping voices in the weakest link’s head; he could have been strategising or practising or anything. Wizzro had the time to come up with an attack so devastating, so apocalyptic in scale, that  _ nothing _ would survive except his own wild laughter, echoing in the night. 

Wizzro was not doing that. Wizzro was not at the castle, nor in the training grounds.

Wizzro was on the battlefield, the only life for miles. A flower in one hand, missing half its petals, and a half-lidded look on his face. He felt warm from the tips of his cloak to the bottom of his hellish shadow body. The souls were whispering, hurriedly, and he just wafted them away like the petals plucked from the plant on the breeze. He let a soft sigh fall out in something like words, as yet another petal drifted away. 

“Alright, Wizzro, I understand that you’re a monster even to  _ monsters _ , but this is getting weird even for you.” Ganondorf nudged him with his boot.

“But it’s so romantic,” he sighed, pulling another petal away. “Plants! Controlling emotions and physical forms! A plant that managed to disperse the battlefield with just the idea that I might bring a wild beast to our side! With love! And ardour!”

Ganondorf’s face dropped like a rock falling into the sea. 

“Please don’t talk about your ardour.”  

“But it’s magnificent!” The flower caught on fire and its ashes flew past Ganondorf like a bad omen. “Ardour! Passion!” His eye shifted into a mouth, tongue lolling out and dripping everywhere. The grass where it hit withered. “And  _ erotic tensions. _ ”

“No.”

“Yes!” Wizzro flung himself up and spun, jewellery clinking together, “ _ erotic tension! _ A fire that burns so, so deep within that nothing could squash it out! Fire that burns so hot I feel like a violin, strung so tight that even the smallest issue could make me snap! I am a volcano, Ganondorf! I am a volcano full of erotic ardour!”

Ganondorf had a look on his face, pupils mere pinpricks and face ashy, like all the blood had vanished so that he could  _ run _ and never look back. It was a look that Wizzro had seen before, mostly in the eyes of the innocent. 

“Hah! You see? The power of my ardour even affects you!”

Ganondorf shuddered and took a cautious step forwards, like he were about to tame an animal. He almost took Wizzro’s hands. He settled on his shoulders instead. 

“Wizzro?”

“Yes?”

“You are one of the most horrifying creatures I have ever had to deal with. I have befriended serial killers and assassins; the dregs of the earth and creatures that hardly fit in a three dimension space. I am the host of the demon king’s hate, and every portion of my soul is telling me that you should not be, that you should burn and be lost to the shadows.”

“Aww, you big tease. There’s room for you to be eaten too-”

“ _ Wizzro.” _

“What is it, big boy?”

Ganondorf took a deep breath. “Before I kick you into oblivion for daring to say that, I feel that it is my duty as a leader, as a  _ person _ to tell you this. About your ardour.” He loomed overhead, a god on high, ready to deliver judgement on a petty spirit. “You. Are. Horny. Please, for the love of the goddess of the  _ sand _ ,  _ learn to masturbate. _ ”

 

Wizzro knew what it was. He’d seen it, more than once, one of those funny things mortals seemed to do- at least, he’d seen Cia flicking the bean and Volga choking the one-eyed dragon. But they lived with him. And they had actual things to jerk and flick. 

Plus, they’d seemed very upset when he’d walked in and refused to leave. Flushed faces and a whole lot of frustration burning deep within- huh, now that he thought about it, the similarity was incredible. A bubbling pit of longing, deep within, never fulfilled or satisfied. 

Then again, that could’ve been the bloodlust. There wasn’t exactly a manual for being a hundred spirits forced into a physical form. Wizzro stared himself down and poked. 

No real sensation beyond being poked. The flames weren’t fanned or doused. 

This was going to require research. 

 

Cia had a collection of toys, all made with swilrling glass and enchanted to vibrate whenever she told them to. They were hidden in a chest, which Wizzro knew because he’d poked through all her belongings long before he recognised the difference between erotic appreciation and popping a boner. Or whatever the equivalent was. 

He had one of them now. It was reasonably slim and ridged. He turned it this way and that before shrugging and prodding it up his cloak. He jiggled it about and frowned. For all that Cia had been screaming when he interrupted her session, Wizzro couldn’t see the appeal. It was cold. And...It was inside him. The darkness nudged it a bit. It held onto it tight when he let go, squinting a little and wondering when the magic would happen.

The door creaked open. Wizzro turned his head. 

“So did I just pick up a shitty toy or are you  _ extremely  _ easy to please-”

Cia went off like a supernova. 

 

Three weeks later, when Wizzro finally managed to put himself back together, he was at square one. The middle of the battlefield, alone, staring at plants. 

“How are you supposed to control emotions and physical thoughts?” He muttered, grabbing a daisy and staring at it. “You’re a plant. But plucking petals is apparently enough magic to say if someone loves you..?”

He tilted his head to and fro. Then he threw the plant into his mouth, chewing hard and finding nothing but a slight bitterness. 

“...Um…”

Wizzro turned around with leaves hanging out of his mouth to see the Princess staring him right in the face. She tilted her head. “Are….you in love..?” 

“Yes, and I’m learning that your plant myths are fucking stupid and that masturbation is hard. If you’re not gonna help, go away, or stand there and let me eat  _ you _ alive.” 

“...I mean, mostly you just have to relax and find the right technique-”

“ _ I don’t have genitals.” _

“But you can get aroused?”

“ _ Yes _ , I can get aroused,  _ no _ , I don’t understand how, and if you don’t stop pulling that face right this  _ instant _ I am going to do to you what I want to do to the object of my affections!” 

“What, did you find a really beautiful necklace you want to rub yourself on?”

He threw a fireball at Zelda’s face. She ducked at the last second, pulling her sword out in a quick flourish before darting forwards to meet him in a clash of magic and metal. There was a smile on her face, a smile far too much like a bird of prey moving to strike an unsuspecting pigeon to be comfortable. Wizzro hissed and set a spell to explode in front of her, sending the princess flying into the mud. Her face was half covered in the stuff. She had all her teeth bared. 

“No, really, I am  _ interested _ \- design wise, that’s so curious! You can feel  _ lust _ , physical desire, but you’re souls!” She batted his spells back at him, dancing around the fierce blasts before slamming into him shoulder first. Her sword was at his eye. “Black magic isn’t my forte, but it’s wise to know thy enemy. And I would be  _ delighted _ to know more about you.” 

“I’m going to rip every inch of your godly magic from you and hunt you down in every cycle that you emerge so I can eat you inch by inch until you’re so full of hate that nothing but demons will fill you!”

Zelda paused for a second. Then her grin came back, wider than before, a thousand cut crystals ready to bite through stone and metal. “Her Grace says she’d like to see you try.”

The burst of magic between them sent them meters apart, form shattering and repairing in quick succession. Zelda scrambled for her sword and Wizzro brought the burn back, thousands of degrees ready to do  _ anything _ so that his opponent would be  _ dead- _

The princess’ face was so close to his eye that he could smell her breath over the smoke. There was something sharp embedded in him, and her face was blooming purple like ink spreading in water. There was blood on her face. 

The smile had not dropped. In fact, it seemed to bubble higher, like water bubbling out of a spring, before it finally split her smile apart and she started laughing. Hardly laughing, really, more of a delighted wheeze that spread like cracks through glass into a wild, open cackle. She pulled her sword back and stumbled, giggling all the way, before flopping back onto the ground. 

Wizzro dropped, front first, beside her. The tension had finally split, a break in the clouds, and now his whole body felt...lighter. 

Which, admittedly, could’ve been from the stab wound. It was leaking black. He grunted at Zelda and her giggles died down a little, before falling into a full-blown huff of breath. 

“Still want to rip me apart?”

“Yes. You’re a terrible person and you’re lucky I’m sleepy or you’d have more of a burn.”

“More of a burn? That’s almost nice from you.”

He shoved her on the burnt arm. She yelped and dissolved into laughter again. He squinted. “Are you some kind of closet pain-freak or something?”

“Pfft. No. I’m just...angrier than I look sometimes. It’s nice to fight all out.” 

“That was all out?”

“Physically. I’m not telling you what I can do with a good magic spell. But sometimes you just have to...get on the field and feel the fire in your bones.”

“So what, you came out looking for a fight?”

“Not specifically with you. But yes. Most people at base are loath to fight me like that.”

“They’re wimps.”

“They’re concerned.”

“Like I said, wimps.”

They laid in silence under the moving clouds for a while. 

“So, you can feel lust.”

“Yes.”

“How’s that treating you?”

“Until recently, a horrible boiling pot of unrestrained malice that was one touch away from erupting.”

“So...you’re not aroused anymore?”

Wizzro thought. He flexed his fingers and the tightness wasn’t there. The bubbling pool in his core was gone. The souls were no longer chittering so ardently. He thought about broken bones and blood dripping down a ripped face, constantly snarling with eyes like the sun. 

It bubbled a little. 

“I think I might be mixing up bloodlust and dick lust.”

“I thought you didn’t have genitals.”

“I will rip your eyes from your skull and feed them to the birds.”

“Her Grace says, once again, she’d like to see you try.”

Once more, they settled into silence. It lasted a few more minutes before the sun started to shine down, bright and blinding. Zelda sat up and stretched. 

“Well, I feel better. When we meet again, we are foes.”

“We’re still foes.”

“Yes, but most foes don’t lay on the grass and talk about their sadomasochistic tendencies.” She picked up her sword and dusted her dress off. She paused. “That said, I really am curious about black magic. Perhaps you’d be willing to do a one on one demonstration again?”

Wizzro pushed himself up. “You’re so strange. I still want to kill you.”

Zelda beamed at him. “Good luck with your love life. I think you’re going to need it.”

It was petty and dishonourable, but damned if the shriek Zelda made when he threw mud at her head didn’t make him smile. 

 

So the battle resumed once more. All that fire thrust through his core like too much water in thin pipes, tearing through the skeletal forces in the field. They burnt like paper dolls on a bonfire. 

There was no princess. There was no light force. The sun had long since set, and the only lights were the raging flames.

And, of course, the horrible sunshine eyes of a beast and a boy, looming overhead. Wizzro bared his teeth and set his magic alight.

“Wanna dance til we die, diva?”

“You don’t deserve to dance with me.”

“Uuuugggggggh,” The Skull Kid moaned, flopping against his giant friend’s head, “why are you guys  _ still _ being weird?!”

“It’s adult business, poppet,” Wizzro clicked his tongue, “I’ve got a fire to snuff out!” 

The thing rolled its eyes and leapt into the fray, Skull Kid shrieking with delight as Wizzro went flying into a tree. His ardour roared with delight.

Maybe he wouldn’t rip the princess’ eyes out. 


End file.
